


Basquiat

by sweetcinnamonbun



Series: Superhuman [2]
Category: NCT (Band), ONEUS (Band)
Genre: A lot of people die but it doesn't stick, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Vampire, It's a lot of pining tbh, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Pentagon, Mentions of gunfire, None of this was meant to happen, Ten shows up at the end a little, There honestly weren't supposed to be relationships in this series except for like 2, Time Travel, Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun-centric, this isn't what was in my notes even remotely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26406412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcinnamonbun/pseuds/sweetcinnamonbun
Summary: After the meteors hit, some of the new superhumans created new societies to be free of the threats looming outside. Basquiat was the largest and best hidden of these.
Relationships: Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun/ Kim Geonhak | Leedo
Series: Superhuman [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908217
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Basquiat

**Author's Note:**

> As mentioned in my tags, I didn't mean for it to turn out anything like this. I hope you enjoy, though.

I was told once that I was one of the lucky ones.  
I’d managed to stay away from being classed and had made it to a safe haven before things had gotten too bad. I hadn’t seen a city in years, or, at the very least, one in good repair. Basquiat was off the grid and surrounded by buildings in varying states of disrepair. We made do with scavenged supplies and traded what we could with the few people who had earned the trust of the leaders.  
Basquiat was as hidden as was manageable, placed in the center of one of the craters left by the meteors, surrounded by vacant buildings and desert. A handful of us were selected as lookouts for the community, based on our abilities. I had been selected as one of them, wandering the outskirts of the old town as I searched for any sign of the officials who would tear our safe haven apart. Nothing had been found in the years since we had settled here, but the threat was always looming. I’d once heard Youngjo tell the leaders that we needed to be vigilant, that he’d seen so many strongholds fall because people foolishly believed that they were safe. And so, the watch was kept.  
I had been assigned with the ever-cryptic Gunhak, who had stepped away to follow a sound he’d heard, the parasol he carried shielding himself from the sun. His skin was on the pale side, almost too pale, and it made his face almost resemble that of a doll. In the time that I knew him, I’d come to realize that the near-scowl he portrayed wasn’t a permanent expression. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, dark, narrowed eyes fixed straight ahead.  
From what I’d gathered, Youngjo’s crew was full of immortals. I’d once asked them what they’d gotten from the meteors and Hwanwoong had just chortled in response and asked which one I was referring to.  
“The one that just took place. The only one that’s happened.” I’d answered and Hwanwoong only gave a brief nod in response, the corners of his lips curling up.  
“What makes you think that was the first one?”  
According to Dongjun, there had been one that had occurred during the Joseon era during a solar eclipse, when they were turned from nobility into the beasts they had become. I tried to press for more information at the time, but quickly realized that the conversation was over.  
Now watching Gunhak, his dark clothing covering every inch of skin that wasn’t hidden under the shade of the parasol, I was beginning to question what I knew about them. He returned not long after the sound was heard, shaking his head.  
“Just a stray cat,” he muttered under his breath, and I could have sworn that his eyes flashed red for a moment. Even after six years of living in Basquiat with them, I couldn’t fully place it what they were. It’s like the answer was buried just under the surface; a word I couldn’t place.  
I shrugged, “I mean, if it was a threat, what could we do against it? I can’t fight and you’re busy holding an parasol.”  
He let out a low chuckle at that, continuing to walk forward, “And what is it that you can do? Most of the people in our community have no issue displaying powers, but you…”  
“Why don’t you show yours?” I snapped back, the conversation inching towards the realm of uncomfortable.  
There was a moment of silence as he kept walking ahead, with me trailing after, the way he was gliding almost inhuman. When he finally spoke, it was soft, “I have lived long enough to remember what happens when people learn what I can do. The years I have lived through have not been kind ones, and even friends can turn against you when they fear you.” I looked over at him, catching the glimpse of sadness that passed over his expression. “It’s almost more frightening to have people learn what you’re capable of than to have no one to lean on, isn’t it? You never know who to trust.”  
I nodded slowly, “If people knew, they’d turn me in. I’m considered dangerous.”  
“In this time, we all are considered as such.”  
Another silence passed between us before he came to a full stop, eyes narrowing as he whipped his head to look at something that had made a noise.  
“What is it?” I asked, watching as he tensed.  
His response came in a near growl, “People are near. I can hear them.”  
“How close are they?” I whispered, my eyes wide.  
“Too close.”  
Once more his eyes flashed red and he strode off, parasol in hand. I chased after him, as fast as my legs could carry me, but he was much faster. It wasn’t until he stopped, drawing himself into the shadows of an abandoned building. Finally catching up, I pressed my back into the wall beside him. He gestured for me to switch to his other side.  
“Be my eyes,” he explained, and I followed his request, switching to stand on his other side and craning my neck to look around the corner. Several young men were walking through the streets, looking a bit lost and confused, but they walked with a purpose.  
“Ten of them,” I explained, “All around my age. I don’t think they were sent here to hunt us.”  
“What makes you so sure?” Gunhak sounded as tense as he looked, his free hand clenched into a tight fist.  
“Hunters hide their identities and their powers,” I answered, watching as one of the men wiggled his fingers, the rubble around him lifting into the air. Another rubbed his hands together, bright sparks lighting at his fingertips as he tried to warm himself. The most curious was a man whose attention was focused so intently on the phone that he seemed not to notice the way he blipped in and out of existence, the feat almost seeming natural to him. “Let me talk to them.”  
Gunhak shot me a look before sighing, “Don’t put the community at risk.”  
“I won’t,” I answered sternly, pushing off the wall and grabbing a loose metal pipe before stepping out of our hiding place to confront them, a dangerous expression on my face. “Who are you?” I called out, holding the pipe in front of me as threateningly as I was able.  
They seemed taken aback by my sudden appearance, though one of them sighed, looking over something on his phone. He showed it to another in their group, who nodded slightly. “We were starting to think that this place didn’t exist,” he finally breathed out, running fingers through his pinkish hair. “This is Basquiat, right? We found the clues.”  
Gunhak stepped out of the shadows, a scowl marking his features as he came to stand next to me. “What makes you think this is the right place?” he drawled, the red tint of his eyes catching us all off guard. I knew he’d thought the clues that the leaders had suggested were left for others like us were a danger to us all and he didn’t easily warm up to new people. Even after five years of knowing one another, and I still knew he kept me at arm’s length when it came to most topics. As he knew nothing of these newcomers, they were automatically a threat to our society in his eyes.  
“We’ve been searching for more than a week. Been on the run longer than that. We don’t really have anywhere else to go. Are we in the right place?” another of the young men - the one who had been causing rubble to float with a wiggle of his fingertips - answered.  
Looking closer, I could see the grime built up from being on the run for a long time. Gunhak looked at me and I shrugged. “The leaders should be the ones to decide. Not us.”  
He seemed to concede, stiff posture relaxing only enough to show that he agreed with me, turning on his heels and walking back towards the crater we’d made our home in. I sighed to myself before motioning the newcomers to follow us.  
The walk back to the entry of Basquiat was a silent one. Gunhak was still tense, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice if the ones following behind us became a threat, at least until they were passed off to the guards and taken to the leaders.  
“I need to go with the other advisors,” Gunhak sighed, “Rest. I think your shift is over for the day.” And with that, he strode to the dilapidated compound, jokingly referred to as the pentagon, where the leaders made their decisions. Dongju ran by, sparing me a small wave before following the others of his group, and I turned to make my way to the mess, passing by the small fields that the chlorokinetics tended.  
I’d been a member of Basquiat’s society since just after its formation. It had stood for nearly six years as a symbol of our ingenuity as a people. We weren’t a rich community, but we had managed with what we could get our hands on. Trades were made with those who had been deemed trustworthy by the leaders for supplies we couldn’t create on our own. We supported one another in any way we could. My contribution was made in supply runs, scavenging the abandoned city for materials and keeping watch with Gunhak. If someone didn’t disclose their abilities, no one badgered them. Everyone had their reasons for keeping silent. Mine were likely as complex as Youngjo’s crew.  
I grabbed a bowl from the stacks of mismatched ceramics I’d helped scavenge, scooping a bowl of rice, an ample amount of chilli sauce and whatever today’s cook had managed to throw together with our limited stockpiles before heading to sit at an empty table. Usually, Dongju would slide into the seat next to mine, talking about whatever things he’d seen during the day’s watch, but they would all be in the pentagon to hear out the newcomers and help in the final decision on whether or not they would become permanent residents. Boredom overtook me and I spent more time picking at the food in front of me rather than actually eating any of it. No throwing it away, so I forced it down before retreating to the bunks, grabbing one of the books I’d found during a watch to pass time.  
Some hours passed before the door was pushed open, Dongju’s excitement evident as he scurried inside. “They’re staying!” he announced, eyes flashing with gold for a moment, “We have empty bunks in here, so they’re staying with us.”  
I sighed, frowning from behind the cover of my book. He and I had been the sole inhabitants for years at this point, and I didn’t like the idea of the space being invaded by new people. "Why, though? Bunker seven's empty. Can't they just put them there?"  
Dongju let out a little laugh at that, "Come on, you can't be that weirded out. You're the one who brought them here. And they were going to have to fill this bunker up, eventually."  
I knew he was right, but I still didn't like the idea of it. Still, if this was what was decided, we could play along. "Fine, but I don't plan on sharing a bunk bed with any of them."  
"That's fine. I'll take the bottom bunk of yours," he shrugged, "Some of these new guys are like scary powerful."  
"I didn't get to see much of them. What all did you find out?" I asked, mildly curious as I sat up on my bed.  
Dongju shrugged, “One can manipulate fire and ice, and they all follow him. Another manipulates gravity. There’s one who can create pocket dimensions, too. That one was kind of interesting and I got to go with him into it.” He tapped his chin after a moment. “There’s lightning and water and hypnosis. One said he’s a technopath, but he looked more suspicious of us than Gunhak did of them. Oh! One of them can multiply himself a bunch of times. The coolest one is the one who can mirror anyone else’s powers.”  
“Damn,” I sighed, running my fingers through my hair, “Bet that made him a prime target when he was catalogued.”  
“He wasn’t. The technopath, the fire and ice guy, the gravity one and the one with hypnosis were the only ones to get caught and classed. They all met each other when they were on the run. Kinda became a brotherhood. They even have a normal guy with them.”  
My brow arched in a question, “That’s odd. Don’t get many of those in places like these.”  
“Keonhee thought it was a little suspicious of it, honestly,” he shrugged, gathering his things from his old bed and moving them to the lower bunk of the one I was sitting on. “When’s your watch tomorrow?”  
“We have the late shift,” I replied, “But I think I’m going scavenging before that. We’ll need extra supplies now that we have a handful of extra mouths to feed.”  
He gave a small nod, “I’ll let our new bunkmates know to keep quiet for you, then. I think Seoho and Youngjo are giving them the tour of the compound and something to eat and I think Gunhak is thinking about stopping by.”  
“Why?” I mused, laying back down on the mattress.  
Dongju shrugged in response, making the bed beneath mine feel as much like home as he was able to before the door to the bunker was pushed open, Gunhak striding in with his parasol still in-hand. It wasn’t uncommon for him. I looked over to him, not bothering to sit up and otherwise only regarding him with a small wave.  
He gave only the smallest nod of acknowledgement before turning his attention to Dongju. “You plan to keep an eye on them alone?” he asked, looking fairly unamused.  
Dongju let out a long sigh, “I don’t think there’s anything to keep an eye out for with these new kids. You’re too suspicious all the time.”  
I tried to hold back a snort, failing to fully hide my amusement. Gunhak spared me a glance before turning back to Dongju. “With all that we’ve lived through, I’m surprised you’re so trusting.”  
I could only imagine the look Dongju was giving Gunhak, because he seemed entirely put out by it. Trying not to interrupt their conversation, I opened my book again, allowing the words to transport me to a better world, only coming out of it when I heard Gunhak say my name. I peered at him from the corners of my eyes and quirked a brow, which was more than likely inconspicuous.  
“Are you alright with this? You prefer a space of your own and Dongju didn’t speak with you before offering the bunker to them,” he asked and I set my book down, rolling onto my side to better look at him.  
“I was going to have to get used to it sooner or later,” I answered, trying not to seem as put out by it as I actually was. “I would have liked to have been asked about it, though.”  
The corners of Gunhak's lips twitched up in a bit of a smirk, "I thought as much. If it gets to be too much being around so many newcomers, I know a few quiet places to decompress."  
I didn't miss Dongju's snickering or the look that was shot at him, which only served to make him laugh harder.  
I waited a moment for him to calm down before answering. “I’ll let you know if it comes to that.” There was a small nod in response, and so I continued. “I’m going scavenging before our shift tomorrow. Let me know if there’s anything you need me to look for.”  
“Of course. I’ll check with the others and let you know before you leave in the morning.”  
And with that, he strode back out of the bunker, stepping aside only once to let Youngjo and the newcomers inside. They looked worn out, carrying the bags with what little belongings they had before picking out their beds. This time, I sat up, giving them a small grunt of greeting as Dongju hopped up off his bunk and went to make official introductions.  
“Welcome to bunker six!” he announced, “I’m Dongju, one of the advisors of Basquiat. Up there is Dejun. He’s a scavenger and a scout. I know we don’t have a lot here, but he’s good at finding things you might need. He usually says when he’s going to be scavenging, so just let him know.”  
They nodded, too tired at the moment to actually introduce themselves. This was probably the first time they’d been able to rest in a long time, at least without having one keep watch or constantly on-guard. It was going to take some getting used to.  
Over the next few weeks, I’d gotten to know them between scouting and scavenging. Johnny was the most bizarre case for me, because, despite his claims at being completely normal, he was definitely the one I’d witnessed blinking in and out of existence. When I’d asked the others about it, they’d all shot cautious looks to one another before admitting that they all knew he was capable of what they thought was teleportation, but that they had a running bet to see how long it would take him to recognize it for himself. Mark was good friends with him, and had the ability to alter gravitational pulls. He’d figured out how to make things go up, but hadn’t quite mastered making things fall just yet, claiming he generally just waited for things to wear off. Taeyong had been the one to find most of the clues and had been following rumors for some kind of safety when he had run into the others. His abilities seemed based on temperature control, where he could create ice and snow with the help of some water, but he could also heat things until they combusted. Taeil was a hydrokinetic, and a powerful one at that. Dongyoung could create temporary clones of himself, which he did to help around the community. Si Cheng’s ability to manipulate technology allowed him to dig through information he’d gathered from different holding facilities. He passed on what he learned to the leaders and helped to set up an untraceable energy source. Yuta was able to mimic any abilities he witnessed, storing them in the back of his mind for later use. Whatever we needed, he was there to help. Yoonoh could absorb and store excess energy, expelling it from his fingertips in blasts of lightning. Donghyuck had hypnosis through verbal suggestion. He didn’t really use this against anyone in the community, but used it to break up any arguments that could end disastrously. Jungwoo had become a scavenger alongside me, storing our finds in the pocket dimension that only he was capable of accessing, making transport to Basquiat much easier than it previously had been.  
As much as I learned about them and got to know them, I did need some space on occasion, and had taken Gunhak up on his offer of a peaceful getaway. As it turned out, it overlooked the community from high up on the crater’s edge. We would sit there for as long as we could get away with, occasionally discussing things we had seen around the abandoned cities and how we’d gotten to where we were now. He still didn’t reveal much about his own past, but what little he did share was worth holding on to.  
It was about three weeks after the arrival of the newcomers when I told him what I was capable of and why I kept it hidden so desperately.  
We’d just gotten back from scouting. It was late, the moon shining brightly above the crater that we’d made our home in, but I wasn’t ready to retire to the bunker. Gunhak’s parasol was closed, but held in his hands like a walking stick as we made our way to the quiet spot. We’d talked about a handful of things as I sat on the edge, swinging my feet back and forth. He sat nearby, legs crossed as he looked at the moon.  
“I wasn’t always so suspicious of people,” I finally admitted, “Before this all happened, I mean.” He turned to look at me, curiosity painting his features. "I was a normal kid. Going to school, spending time with my friends and family. And then the meteors hit and my whole life changed. I lived the same day six times in a row. Just over and over, repeating the same day, the same meteor strike, the same panic. When I finally broke out of that, I thought it was just a nightmare. But it happened again and again and then I knew I was different. A lot of people don't present that fast, y'know? Most people took days or weeks before they started showing signs of what they were."  
"Time travel?" he finally asked, his voice soft as he approached the subject that I'd been avoiding.  
Slowly, I nodded. "Only the leaders know. It's not something I ever planned on sharing with anyone because I know how they see people who can do what I can. I've heard the rumors." I brought my knees to my chest, staring out at Basquiat instead of looking at him. "I figured out how to control it and that was all. But it's hard to not trust anyone, so I'm trusting you."  
A long silence passed between us before he spoke again. "Thank you. And I’m sorry that I can’t return the favor.”  
I shrugged, glancing over at him, “If it’s not the time for you, it’s not the time. But it was for me. Just…” I sighed, turning back to the view in front of me, “Don’t tell anyone else.”  
That night, I was plagued by concern that I’d told the wrong person and that, by morning, the whole of Basquiat would know what I was, but I was proven wrong. For the next few days, it was only ever mentioned during our watches. Sometimes, we would walk together under the shade of his parasol as he asked me hushed questions about my abilities.  
“How does it work?” he asked, purely out of curiosity while I searched the rubble of the library for any interesting books. He was already carrying an armful for me, standing in the only shaded part of the remaining building while I dug through a toppled shelf of dusty comics. I pretended not to notice the way he covered a laugh at my enthusiasm.  
“Like how I imagine groundhog day played out. I can travel back and forth in time, but I have to already exist in the time that I want to get to. My memories and everything get transferred to that version of me. It works better if I only travel back because then I know what will happen,” I answered, dusting off my new finds and holding them up with pride. “If I go forwards in time, I can really mess something up, right? But I won’t know it until that exact moment that I’ve messed it up.”  
“How many times has that come up?”  
“Three,” I snorted, “They’re fixed, though. But let’s just say I know better, now.”  
He smiled at that, tilting his head to look at the dusty floor. “You’re incredible.”  
I blinked a few times before walking over. “It’s not, though. There’s no practical use for what I can do. Now your strength? That’s almost always useful.”  
He frowned at that, glancing at me as I added the last acquisitions to the top of the pile in his arm. “There are people who would kill for a gift like yours.”  
“Then maybe that’s why I’m the one who got it.”  
It wasn’t long before we returned to Basquiat, passing Dongju and Seoho, whose watch was starting as ours ended. Dongju was animated as ever, the excitement of getting the night watch bubbling over into a near skip in his step.  
We took the books to bunker six, setting them in a pile on the floor next to the bunk bed that Dongju and I shared. I took a seat on the floor next to them, flipping through the book on the top of the pile.  
Gunhak laughed at me softly, shaking his head as he knelt down next to me, “Don’t forget to eat something.”  
I nodded, looking up from the pages with a small smile, “You don’t have to worry about me, you know.”  
“But I do,” he chuckled, standing up and straightening out his coat with the hand that wasn’t occupied by the ever-present parasol. “I can’t meet up with you tonight. Youngjo got some supplies that Keonhee, Hwanwoong and I needed, but I suppose you’ll be more preoccupied with your books, anyways.”  
I tilted my head to look at him, hiding a smile behind the pages of the comic book I was holding. “You sound disappointed, Gunhak. It’s just one night.”  
He let out a soft scoff, the smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll see you tomorrow. And don’t forget to eat something.”  
With that, he left me to the books I had gathered, though I did step out to get something to eat as he’d requested. Some time in the night, I climbed into the top bunk and closed my eyes to sleep only catching about a moment’s worth before I was startled awake, the door to bunker six swinging open as Gunhak dragged in an injured Seoho, blood staining the white of his shirt, followed in by a distraught Youngjo and Keonhee. I could barely make out Hwanwoong standing just outside, his stance feral. Youngjo knelt next to Seoho, who had been set on the ground, leaning against the wall. The other inhabitants of the bunker slowly came to, casting worried looks at the scene in front of them.  
“How did they know to bring silver?!” Hwanwoong snarled, breathing hard. I jumped out of my bed, looking at the scene in front of me.  
“What happened?” I asked, grabbing an old shirt to use as makeshift bandages and handing it to a trembling Youngjo. “Where’s Dongju?”  
The moment I said his name, the atmosphere became tense. Gunhak put a hand on Youngjo’s shoulder, taking the shirt from him. Youngjo took a shaky breath before answering my question.  
“He’s dead,” he choked out, “Hunters found them during their watch. They almost killed both of them. They’re on the way.” Seoho carefully reached out to take his hand, offering a weak smile as Gunhak tore strips of fabric to tie around his wounds.  
The answer tore the air from my lungs, my eyes wide as I looked to the others, hoping it was a joke. Keonhee shook his head so subtly that I nearly missed it.  
“We need to wake the others, then!” I cried out, looking at everyone as I tried to hold back tears. Youngjo cast quick looks at Keonhee and Hwanwoong, who both nodded and ran to the other bunkers. Gunhak tied off Seoho’s wounds to the best of his ability, casting a sad look at the clasped hands, Seoho’s grip weakening slightly.  
The others had started to pull on jackets and clothes for the fight ahead, milling about the building before shuffling out the door, joining the others in waking everyone they could before the hunters arrived.  
Gunhak stood, turning towards me, “Dejun.” His expression was pleading, though he didn’t say the words aloud, I knew what he was asking.  
Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm the jumble of thoughts that played through my head, with no success. After some time, I shook my head. “I- I can’t. I can’t focus,” I choked out.  
He sighed and put his bloody hands on my shoulders. “Do you trust me?” It took a second for the question to register, but I nodded, one of his hands dropping to clasp one of mine. He looked to Youngjo, who shook his head, muttering something about not leaving Seoho’s side. Gunhak sighed with a nod before he pulled me along to a hidden room in the back of the bunker. Each one had one, hidden and damn near impenetrable. Outside, I could hear the beginnings of a fight in gunfire and shouts, but Gunhak pressed on, moving the facade that was set in front of the door as quickly as he could.  
The door was heavy, but he pulled it open with relative ease, ushering me inside. “This will keep you safe,” he explained, “Stay in here and keep quiet. I’ll come get you when it’s safe.”  
I stared at him with wide eyes, shaking my head, “Let me fight!”  
He shook his head, taking both hands in his before giving a reassuring squeeze. “And what would I do if you were lost, too? I’ve already lost a brother and I’m close to losing another. These are hunters. Trained assassins. You’d be slaughtered. I know I’m asking a lot of you with this, but, if you can, go back in time and warn us. If no one else believes you, I will.”  
I stared at him a long moment, before giving a slow, uncertain nod. He let loose my hands, pulling me into an embrace to whisper something into my ear before he stepped away, closing the door behind him and returning the facade to its original placement. I leaned against the wall, equal parts shock and horror washing over me as I slid down to curl up into the corner furthest from the door. Outside, the battle raged the sounds slowly dying down. I could hear a loud snarl before a single, resounding gunshot sounded off and I knew they were in the building. I held my breath and covered my ears as more gunfire, ending with a loud thud was heard. Hoping it was the sound of Gunhak taking out the gunman, I lowered my hands from my ears in time to ear the muffled voices just outside.  
“How is he still breathing?” an unfamiliar voice sneered, “Damn near ran out of ammunition. I had to use my damn abilities.”  
“He might be worth bringing back to the boss,” another sighed, “Take him outside for transport.”  
There was a sound of dragging and I tried to keep as quiet as I could, knowing that the sun was on the rise by the cracks in the enforced walls. I knew that Gunhak wasn’t coming back after this.  
It was a full day of silence before I knew I was one of the last ones left and enough tears were shed for my mind to be clear enough. I closed my eyes in the dark, empty bunker and opened them under the covers of my bunk, watching Dongju scramble around like he had been when I woke up six days ago, the morning after I’d told Gunhak what I was capable of, looking for a missing sock.  
“Under your pillow,” I explained, the shock still setting in. He lifted his pillow, picking up the sock triumphantly, a grin on his face.  
“What a lucky guess! You’re a lifesaver!” he laughed, sitting on his bed as he pulled it on.  
I climbed down from the top bunk, quickly dressing as I tried to hold my fragile mind together. “Any idea where Gunhak is this morning?”  
He looked up at me with a smirk, “You two have been spending a lot of time together. Don’t you ever want a break from him?”  
I let out a humorless laugh before answering, “I guess not.”  
He tilted his head with a concerned look, “Everything okay?”  
“Not yet,” I replied.  
He seemed to give in, “He’s in bunker seven, but he won’t like it if you just barge in there.”  
“I’ll knock,” I deadpanned, heading out the door and directly to bunker seven rapping my knuckles on the door as I managed to maintain my composure as best as I could, the facade crumbling the moment the door was opened by Youngjo. It was kept dark, and it didn’t take much to know what was going on inside. I walked in, pushing past Youngjo and closing the door behind me. Several lanterns provided light that the boards on the windows prevented and I nearly collapsed when I saw Gunhak stand up, wiping the dribbles of blood from his mouth.  
He stared at me in shock, “Dejun, I…”  
“That’s not important. You already told me,” I replied, my voice cracking as I walked towards him until I could place my head on his shoulder, gripping his shirt to keep myself upright when my legs tried to give out, the breakdown I’d been fending off finally hitting. He tensed for a moment before relaxing, holding me steady as the sobs started.  
“What’s wrong..?” he asked when the tears finally died out.  
“Basquiat… It was - will be - attacked. Hunters came. Dongju was killed. They know where we are,” I choked out, “Everyone died. You were…” I stopped myself, not wanting to think of the things I’d heard just outside.  
Hwanwoong gave a confused look, “He barged in here because of a nightmare?”  
Gunhak shook his head, his voice soft and even, “No.”  
“You’re not saying he’s-” Youngjo started.  
“A time traveler,” I cut in, not willing to waste much more time, my anxiety of being found out quickly fading as the ticking clock started in my mind.  
Youngjo let out a scoff of a laugh, “Shit.”  
Keonhee blinked a few times, “How many days do we have?”  
“Five before the hunters get here,” I answered, pulling myself away from Gunhak to wipe the stray tears from my eyes. “I need to talk to the leaders. We need to move.”  
A few concerned looks were passed around before Gunhak reached for his parasol, opening it after he fixed his gloves and coat so that no skin was exposed. I supposed I should have seen it ages before he finally told me. Immortal, unable to spend time in the sunlight, elegant… It should have all fit that he was a vampire, but I suppose that the very idea was just so bizarre that it never occurred to me.  
The meeting with the leaders had gone surprisingly well, despite having to explain everything I’d witnessed. I supposed that having one of the advisors vouch for me had played into it, but I wasn’t going to question it too much. The order was given to evacuate the place we’d called home, moving to a better hidden site, one where clues to the location weren’t hidden around the cities.  
Rumors spread fast of a time traveler hidden among the citizens as we moved things as quickly as we all could and I could feel the panic coursing through my veins. Sooner or later, the realizations would come and I would be found out. I supposed all good things had to come to an end, and I would make sure they had all reached safety before I would move on.  
The new location was strange, but better hidden and well protected. About a week after everyone had settled into their old routines, I had packed my bag, slinging it over my shoulder in the dead of night to make my escape, growing nervous over the lingering stares and hushed whispers that followed me throughout the encampment.  
I walked for some time, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I felt someone behind me.  
“Dongju’s going to be upset at the lack of goodbyes.”  
Gunhak. Of course it was him.  
“I can’t stay here,” I replied, looking to my feet rather than at him, “I can’t relax anymore. I saved them, but..”  
“But now they know, and you’re scared.”  
I nodded, finally turning towards him, “Nothing good comes from being a time traveler. I saved them, but still remember everything that didn’t happen.”  
He sighed, uncertainty crossing his features, “I wasn’t even going to get a farewell? If you’d just gone missing, I would have gone looking for you.”  
I let out a dry laugh, “You wouldn’t have left the others behind like that.”  
“You never know, Dejun. I might have.” There was a long pause before he spoke, his voice quiet, “Will I see you again?”  
I wasn’t sure of the answer myself. “I hope so. Maybe I’ll even come back to this moment to give you a better answer.”  
He gave a weak smile in response, “I can only pray that you will.”  
He turned back towards the encampment, and I watched him, even as he turned back to cast a final glance my way before I began walking away again, my heart feeling heavy as I left behind everything I’d known.  
More than a year had passed since that night, and I stood before the council of New Basquiat, six of my comrades standing behind me. Chittaphon glanced around at the faces I knew too well, smirking as he noted one in the shadows, bumping my arm with his elbow and pointing him out to me. “He’s staring you down. What did you do? Steal his lunch money?”  
I looked up towards him, noting the too-pale face and small quirk of his lips as he looked at me. I couldn’t help the small smile trying to push past the seriousness of the situation. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and opening them, back to the night I’d left.  
“Will I see you again?”  
My heart ached at the question, and I sucked in a deep breath, “You will.”  
He seemed relieved by the answer, but only just, “How do you know?”  
“I just do.”  
Realization seemed to hit and he smiled, “Then I’ll count the days.”  
I let out a laugh and shook my head as he walked off, casting the same glance as before, but this time a bit more light-hearted.  
I closed my eyes again, once more standing before the council, Chittaphon again jabbing me with his elbow to make a remark about the man in the shadows, who was less inconspicuous in the smile.  
When the council had ended, my comrades had all gone their separate ways, looking through the hidden city of New Basquiat, but I’d gone to find the best possible overlook of the city, sitting on the highest ledge and kicking my feet as I looked over the now thriving community. Once more, the hairs stood on the back of my neck and I felt the smile creeping onto my face.  
“Three hundred and ninety-seven days,” Gunhak sighed, taking a seat beside me, his parasol blocking him from the setting sun, “I’ve missed you, Dejun.”


End file.
